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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311296">from 1 to 10</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint'>bluetint</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Day6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, arranged marriage following a meet cute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:42:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arranged marriages are like diving off a cliff. Doing it by oneself is a daunting concept. But if you have someone who feels the same as you by your side, holding your hand as they jump, it's not so bad.</p><p>- or, Youngfeel get hitched</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>from 1 to 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/gifts">forochel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Keeping up with my yearly tradition of posting fic on my birthday, I present to you this. </p><p>Prompted by one and dedicated to another, this fic was a lot to work on, especially since I have become so used to writing the sevens, so I'll admit I struggled. <i>A lot</i>. The prompt was 'first meal' but I deviated greatly from that. </p><p>To div and anam, thanks for looking this over.</p><p>First time posting for this ship, be nice! Happy reading and remember to feed the eldritch abomination some validation on your way out ~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The darkness was disconcerting.</p><p>“What … are we doing?”</p><p>“Ssshhh,” said Younghyun. The upper half of Wonpil’s face was being held captive, Younghyun’s hands covering Wonpil’s eyes.</p><p>Wonpil pouted, puffing his cheeks out for maximum effect. He knew he was irresistible like that.</p><p>Younghyun continued nudging him down the hallway. </p><p>Quietness enveloped them like a newly unpacked shawl, prickly but warm. </p><p>Well, it was <em> way </em> past midnight. Most guests would have long retired to their rooms. Like them, Wonpil would have retired too, but Jinyoung had wanted to spend the <em> last precious moments of their friendship together before Wonpil ran off into the sunset with the love of his life and forgot all about him </em> as married people were wont to do. Jinyoung’s words, not his.</p><p>Wonpil smiled at the memory and would have rolled his eyes had they not been covered by Younghyun’s hands. Jinyoung could be so <em> dramatic </em>.</p><p>Besides, referring to Younghyun as <em> the love of his life </em>was kind of stretching it, considering how they’d met only seven months ago through a meet-cute arranged by both their parents.</p><p>“We’re here,” announced Younghyun, finally bringing them to a stop in front of what Wonpil hoped was the suite. He would really like to change out of the traditional clothing he’d been forcibly wrapped up in for the <em> pyebaek </em> ceremony. The <em> hanboks </em> were beautiful, no doubt, and had been passed down his family for three generations. It was an important part of their family history <em> and </em>really tiring to wear for an entire day. All that tradition and custom tied into familial duties and societal customs, y'know? </p><p>Subsequently, he’s reminded of the fact he does not have his suitcase. The one they’d packed specifically for personal and immediate use. </p><p>“Wait here for a bit, would you?” said Younghyun. </p><p>Wonpil blinked. “But why?”</p><p>“I just want to make sure everything’s in order, you know, like your mother asked,” amended Younghyun when he noticed the agitated expression on Wonpil’s face. “And don’t worry, my mum sent some stuff ahead, just in case.”</p><p>Wonpil tried not to feel too embarrassed. He did.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“You’ll be fine out here for a bit, right? I just need to make sure everything’s in order and stuff, you know?”</p><p>Wonpil’s hands fisted — very lightly — in the sides of the robes. “You don’t have to do everything she says. I’m fine, I can sleep on a bed that isn’t mine for one night without doing the thing—”</p><p>Younghyun gently cut him off. “But why do it when you don’t have to, right? Now stay.” He disappeared into the suite before Wonpil could say anything to that, staring glumly at the door that had just been closed in his face.</p><p>Wonpil realized that for the first time in days, he was alone. No family, no friends, no well-meaning relatives or friends. Just him. Even if it was to be for a brief bout of time, it felt strange.</p><p>Lack of things to occupy his mind made his thoughts drift to things… things no one talked about. How did one go about sharing a bed? Changing in the same room? The same vicinity? Who decided which side to sleep on? Beneath the covers or above?</p><p>Wonpil swore he wasn’t the delicate flower his mother and everyone had made him out to be. It was embarrassing how they oh so casually threw details about him at Younghyun that he would otherwise prefer to keep hidden: his collection of action figures, the first time he rode an airplane, his middle school nickname (“Pencil”) and his habit of nervously jiggling his legs on a bed that was not his.</p><p>Wonpil was unable to trace the exact point of origin of that particular quirk, but as time had passed, it had just amplified.  The jiggling of his feet sometimes got so bad that his cousins or whichever unfortunate soul he was sharing a bed with would snap at him for it. It wasn’t unusual to find Wonpil folded into an uncomfortable position on the sofa or couch the next morning in order to avoid doing it. His feet were fine with things that you could sleep on which were not beds, but they didn’t vibe with sleeping on a bed that belonged to someone else. He couldn’t explain it. </p><p>Younghyun was the first person to refer to it as something cute. “You look like a merman out of the water trying to hide his tail under the blanket.”</p><p>His mother had forgotten his suitcase, but not the folding mattress he used whenever they went somewhere. She had tactfully not informed him of this until before she got into the car to head home leaving Younghyun to deal with whatever meltdown Wonpil would have over it.</p><p>As he waited, Wonpil fiddled with the <em> daedae </em> , curling and uncurling his toes in the pinchy shoes he’d switched to from the <em> mowkha </em> . His mother <em> had </em> packed two pairs of shoes. He vaguely recalled her holding up the suitcase with the spare clothes for after the <em> pyebaek </em>, but somehow in their haste to depart for the hall, it'd been left at home. If memory served, it was probably next to the chest of drawers his mother always moved the keyboard stand next to. It used to drive him crazy. </p><p>He thought of the stand, packed away into the carton along with the rest of his things, securely transported to the apartment they'd been gifted by his in-laws, who were of the modern notion that the newlyweds should have their own place, their own separate space to grow comfortably in. </p><p>As much Wonpil appreciated that sentiment, he couldn't help but wish they'd gone with the traditional route, offering them a room in their house instead, so he'd have things and people to occupy himself with.</p><p>Although, an old couple wouldn't offer much in the way of distraction considering Younghyun was their only son. They were barely home themselves on account of being renowned experts in their fields, infamous for being workaholics.</p><p>Home. </p><p>He did not have a home anymore. Of course, <em> his </em>house, the modestly sized affair that comfortably housed his parents, sister, and grandmother was physically present but not spiritually. Not in the sense it was his before he got married off to someone else and became a part of their household.</p><p>Now he felt like he was in limbo, trying to find the place where he belonged. Logically, he was aware it was with his husband but also it would take time to make it his own, make it <em> his </em>home. His house — the one he grew up in and was a part of until today — was present but his connection to it was being redefined while a new connection to this new home was being created and he was powerless to stop it.</p><p>It was not his first time going through this cycle of overwhelming thoughts and he knew by now, that if he let it spiral out of control he might end up doing something he would come to regret. </p><p>Tilting his head back, he took several deep breaths like Jinyoung always told him to — <em> “Breathe, Wonpilie, I assure you it works wonders when your brain gets some much needed oxygen,” </em>— sternly telling himself to cease this ridiculousness and instead focus on how out of place he looked decked out in traditional garb in the hallway of this grand hotel that he had no business being in.</p><p>Well, if one were to look at the ring on his finger, the outfit, and the “please do not disturb &lt;3” sign hanging on the door of the exorbitantly priced honeymoon suite their<em> parents </em> had spent money on, they would very much think it <em> was </em> his business <em> . </em></p><p>Sweat pooled at the back of his neck. Who would be hot under the collar in a cooled hall with the AC quietly working on full blast? Certainly not Wonpil. <em> It wasn’t like it was his wedding night or anything.  </em></p><p>Except it was.</p><p>
  <em> Oh god. </em>
</p><p>For the briefest of seconds, Wonpil wondered if it would be terribly rude and unfilial of him if he ran off to god knows where on his honeymoon. </p><p>The door opened just then, sparing him from the lunacy of his own thought process as a hand pulled him in.</p><p>Wonpil nearly lost his balance, toppling under the weight of the ceremonial robes and his reality, but Younghyun steadied him with both hands. </p><p>"Woah there, Pil-ah."</p><p>Blinking under the soft glow of the pendant lights, blushing at the diminutive, Wonpil realized two things:</p><p>One, Younghyun was <em> really </em>close. Like, close enough that Wonpil could see how long his lashes were and could accurately map the distance between the three moles on his chest without having to use his fingers.</p><p>Two, Younghyun had changed. He was wearing the matching silk pajamas Wonpil’s <em> noona </em> had oh so gleefully picked out for their first night as a couple.</p><p>“Here.” Wonpil’s heart jumped as something was pressed into his hands. </p><p>Pajamas. </p><p>"Thought you could freshen up first. The bathroom's just to the right. Come to the living area whenever you're ready, all right?"</p><p>Wonpil gulped. <em> Were they really going to — </em></p><p>“Don't take too long, yeah?”</p><p>
  <em> Well shit. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Standing in the luxurious steamed bathroom, the Jacuzzi leered suggestively at him. The tiles snickered and the bath salts tittered making Wonpil feel extremely out of place.</p><p>Disrobing himself had been a monumental task. Normally Wonpil would just carelessly tug off his fancy wear but the robes were <em> old </em>and the cloth was really delicate. His mother and his ancestors would curse him if any harm befell the heirlooms. </p><p>In the middle of this arduous exercise, the thought of summoning Younghyun to help hurry it along did cross his mind. But it was quickly quashed by the realization that it would require close proximity to each other and he was really not ready to unveil it all - physically — to his future spo— <em> husband </em>.</p><p>Not yet.</p><p>Younghyun probably wasn't going to do anything and had probably changed for practical reasons. Unlike Wonpil his parents had not forgotten the spare suitcase at home and he hadn't been forced to parade around the hotel in his <em> hanbok </em> as Wonpil had.</p><p>Besides, they had talked about it. </p><p>In the months leading up to the wedding, there had been certain pockets of time where they’d been tactfully left alone so they could discuss their future together. Talk without feeling conscious and having to watch their words. Younghyun had assured — no, promised him — that they would not take the relationship to the next level until they both were ready for it in every aspect that counted. They’d even pinky sworn on it! There was even a picture of it somewhere tucked away in Younghyun’s phone gallery as ‘evidence.’</p><p>They’d worked hard to build all this trust and Younghyun was not the sort to break it over something so trivial as sex for the sake of tradition. </p><p>Being reminded of that, Wonpil felt silly and a little guilty for doubting Younghyun’s integrity. Not that he could be entirely blamed for it, on account of the wedding night horror stories he’d heard via third party sources.</p><p>Goodness gracious, were these the wedding jitters his mother and sister had warned him about? They’d told him of the pre-wedding ones, of which he’d experienced none. Did post-wedding jitters exist? Did <em> pre-sex jitters </em> exist? His face warmed from embarrassment and if he weren’t holding the generational finery he would’ve been clutching his face in embarrassment right now.</p><p>Shaking his head to ward off his stupid thoughts once again, Wonpil squared his shoulders and marched to the door, opening it to reveal Younghyun, whose hand was poised to knock on the door.</p><p>“Hyung!” The sight of Younghyun’s broad chest and shoulders so close to him gave him a mini heart attack. </p><p>“Wonpil-ah. Everything all right?"</p><p>Wonpil offered a bashful smile as he held up the bundle in explanation, trying to calm his racing heart. “Sorry hyung, it was taking too long to come off.”</p><p>“Oh.” Younghyun blinked. He looked really cute in those pajamas with his hair falling into his eyes. Like a baby. “Well you could’ve asked me, I’d have been happy to help.”</p><p>Wonpil held out his arms to Younghyun and said with as much aegyo as possible, “Please help me.”</p><p>“Ordering your husband around already, I see.” </p><p>But Younghyun took the proffered hand nonetheless and led them to another room, which was the master bedroom from the looks of it. The heart made of roses in the middle of the bed caught his attention immediately, the red standing out in stark contrast to the white sheets. Wonpil’s face warmed quicker than the kettle Younghyun used to make his tea.</p><p>Younghyun placed the bundle on the bed, undoing the efforts of some well-meaning waitstaff who must have spent considerable time shaping the heart, and pulled out the moth proof garment bag. “Well, your <em> noona </em> did ask you to establish the hierarchy early on.”</p><p>Wonpil withdrew his gaze from the bed and perched on the edge of it to watch Younghyun who deftly folded and packed away the <em> hanbok </em> in a manner his mother would have approved of. Neither of them mentioned the decoration or how Younghyun hadn’t made any changes to the bed. </p><p>“In that case, I think I might be a few months late.”</p><p>Younghyun let out a thoughtful hmm. “Better late than never?”</p><p>Wonpil laughed nervously, fiddling with the wedding band that adorned his ring finger, the platinum obscuring the shell and bone heart. “Hyung, I think we now have all the time in the world for me to boss you around.”</p><p>Younghyun chuckled, a breathy sound that echoed in the room. It was as if they had both realized that they were alone. Truly alone for the first time in an enclosed space, without the buffer of family, friends, or chaperones in between to keep them in check. That either of them could easily reach across the seven inches of space that separated them and close it and no one would stop them.</p><p>So that’s what Wonpil did. Reached across and grasped Younghyun’s hand. His fingers easily fit into the spaces between Younghyun’s, almost as if they had been made for him. His hands were really warm. They held hands quietly for a few minutes, basking in the comfort of each other’s company — Younghyun’s thumb tracing the head of the little ink heart peeking out from behind Wonpil’s ring — before a loud rumbling sound filled the room.</p><p>“Oh dear,” mumbled Younghyun. Wonpil could tell he was trying not to laugh at the twin sounds of both their stomachs rumbling but it was hard. Wonpil let out a snort and Younghyun followed suit, both of them dissolving into laughter.</p><p>“Okay,” sighed Younghyun, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “We definitely need to eat.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Wonpil agreed. “Think we can do room service?”</p><p>Their hands were still intertwined. </p><p>“Oh I’ve got that covered. Come on.” Tugging on his hand, Younghyun pulled him off the bed and Wonpil allowed himself to be led.</p><p>The sight in the living area brought Wonpil to a halt.</p><p>
  <em> “Oh.” </em>
</p><p>In a collaborative effort to get them to know each other, their friends and family alike had signed them up for various things, like cooking classes and couples yoga, and the like. Relationship Building 101, Jae had called it.</p><p>Through each such outing, while making such memories, they were able to get closer.  Over the course of many memories, a select few stood out.</p><p>The one-day wine tasting event which had been nice. A Frenchman whom Jinyoung had christened Maxim No Last Name after the young man had introduced himself as such had been their guide. He had been smitten with Wonpil, much to the amusement of both their friend groups. Maxim hadn't been bothered by the ring on Wonpil's finger, making suggestive remarks and leaning over to refill Wonpil's glass multiple times. To him, the ring might as well have not been there.</p><p>But to Wonpil it had very much been present, leading him to reach over and grasp Younghyun's hand at one point when his smile got too bright after a particularly suggestive comment. He'd even offered Younghyun his glass and watched in open-mouthed, hazy brained fascination as Younghyun's mouth closed over the exact spot on the glass rim where Wonpil's mouth had been. </p><p>Another memory that stood out was the cooking class they’d taken together. Wonpil was a person of considerable talents. He could handle a paintbrush expertly when painting a particularly fine figurine. Playing the keyboard was second nature to him. Making people feel better about themselves was another. But for the life of him, Wonpil could <em> not </em>cook; a point his family had taken care to point out to Younghyun on several occasions so he could be made aware of what he was getting into.</p><p>Luckily for both of them, Younghyun’s cooking skills made up for it. More than made up, Sungjin had said, for he’d been among the lucky ones who’d gotten to sample the Pad Thai Younghyun had made in class that day. Each couple had been given a dish to make. Wonpil had completely mucked up the recipe — the host had actually <em> gagged </em>when she’d taken a bite of the noodles — and to this day, no one would tell him what Younghyun had done to fix it. Only that it had been delicious and Wonpil had not been able to take a bite, for he’d been in the bathroom too long, drowning in his own mortification.</p><p>Upon witnessing Wonpil’s crestfallen expression, Younghyun had promised to make it for him some time and Wonpil had assumed he’d forgotten it, but he really should have known better because the same Pad Thai sat at the coffee table, arranged into two plates. A movie was queued up on the TV. </p><p>Wonpil should’ve known. Younghyun never forgot, especially when it came to him.</p><p>“You really made it.”</p><p>“I did promise, remember?”</p><p>“Yes, you did. But when did you get the time?”</p><p>Younghyun winked. “A magician never tells.”</p><p>Wonpil settled down on the sofa, and Younghyun <em> finally </em>relinquished Wonpil’s hand in order to hand him the plate. “I went easy on the spice.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Try it.”</p><p>Wiggling his fingers in anticipation, he reached for the chopsticks. Wonpil tried to be as graceful as possible — “please take dainty bites” his <em> noona’s </em>voice echoed in his head - but ended up getting some sauce on his chin anyway.</p><p>Younghyun made it a point to maintain physical contact with Wonpil throughout the meal. A swipe of his thumb on Wonpil's chin or cheek. His hand on Wonpil’s knee after he’d spread the napkin on top of Wonpil’s thighs to catch any potential spills. Their fingers brushing as they passed things back and forth. The lingering touch combined with the exhaustion of today and the celebration being thrown by his taste buds made it difficult to focus. He didn’t know if it was because he had been hungry all day, or the knowledge that this was the first meal cooked by his spouse especially for <em> him </em>but he somehow managed to swallow the mouthful past the slight lump in his throat. </p><p>“Is there too much spice?” Younghyun had mistaken the moisture in his eyes as a possible reaction to spice. Wonpil shook his head with a sniff and took another bite, taking his time chewing and swallowing it. </p><p>“It’s perfect, hyung.” <em> Like you. </em></p><p>Younghyun smiled, eyes crinkling and even teeth showing. “Good.”</p><p>Wonpil directed his attention to the screen. It took him a few seconds to process. “We’re watching <em> Shrek </em> on our first night as a married couple?” </p><p>“<em> Shrek </em> is a timeless classic, okay? And we’re eating our first meal together as a couple while watching a timeless classic.”</p><p>“I feel like I should be judging you for this. Jae hyung would judge you for this, wouldn’t he?”</p><p>“What Jae doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”</p><p>“And what if he were to know, somehow?”</p><p>Younghyun took a huge bite of his Pad Thai and did not even get anything on his chin. Wonpil was in awe and envy simultaneously. “Keep that attitude up and you won’t get dessert.”</p><p>Wonpil’s heart gave a funny jump. This man. Unbelievable. “Meanie.”</p><p>“<em> Your </em> meanie.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Wonpil settled in. The choice of the movie was unorthodox, but the food was good and the dessert which they shared — chocolate lava cake with ice cream — was even better. At some point, Wonpil’s head ended up on Younghyun’s shoulder, tucked securely into his side. </p><p>They both fell asleep on the sofa before they got to the Dronkeys.</p><p>As far as first nights went, it was perfect.</p><p>---</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To foro-san, you deserve <s>pornier youngfeel than this</s> better <s>i promise pandak will see the light</s>. Thank you for singlehandedly commandeering this ship.</p><p> </p><p>i can be found on @anendearinglump on twt</p></blockquote></div></div>
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